Crystal clicked along the dingy lane, feeling cold stares on her back. She'd left her Chesterwood high-rise for a tense walk through the streets of bag-town. Flash a little gold jewelry and some spotless duralon and scags came to call. She took risks to get a rush and break out of the tedium of her corporate life. Besides the excitement, she did it to make her bodyguard, Gerron, mad. Maybe this time, he'd drop his shields and she'd see the man behind the armored mask.
She walked faster, glancing around to see if Gerron was visible. She saw nothing but darkened street sides, barred windows, and smog stained brickwork. A metallic smell lingered in the air, the caustic remnants of the mortigene toxins used clean up the biohazards found here in New Los Angeles' ghettos.
Crystal forced down a surge of concern at not seeing Gerron nearby. Using the holo-photonic abilities of his armor he usually stayed invisible to prevent attracting attention. The tactic had surprised many an enemy. He protected her from the vermin by interposing his armored body. Fists, knives, bullets, partical blasts—all met the same resilient wall.
Tucking her dark hair into the collar of her jacket, she caught a glimpse of something big moving in the shadows behind her. She picked up the pace, feeling her heart thump harder. Alive. Not dead like her bio-stricken father. Not vegetized like her chip-popping brother.
Cats yowled in an alley. Turboelectric vehicles hummed across an intersection down the street.
Crystal scanned for some evidence of Gerron. Sometimes she located him by looking for inconsistencies where fog or dust blew around his camouflaged form.
Nothing.
A broad figure clad in rags shuffled down the sidewalk behind her; a big man, enough to make three of her. Something metallic in his hand caught the light from a street lamp.
A gun.
She steeled herself. Gerron could handle it. Simply to see him in action and be close to the fight were part of what made her take chances. That, and it made him angry enough to talk to her. After years of being her guardian, it had been only last month that she'd heard his real voice.
The scene sprang like a tri-vid in Crystal's mind. They stood on a rooftop looking across the neon colors of the city. An icy breeze laden with bitter scents of alkali stung her nose, remnants from the cloud seeding the night before. Her gold bodysuit felt moist and looked transparent in places from the exertion of running. Panting, she leaned against the rail. She'd tried to outrun Gerron up ten flights of stairs. She failed to increase the margin between them by more than a meter.
Her skin prickled as she felt the intensity of his focus on her. She turned and stared at the smooth mirror sheen of his face plate. She imagined seeing narrowed green eyes staring at her. The contours of the blue durathene carapace suggested a muscular physique; a twenty-first century knight in shining armor.
She often fantasized what he looked like underneath. Despite her best efforts she could not even coax him into removing his helmet. Threatening to fire him was no more persuasive. He remained another of the enigmas she inherited when her father died.
"Why do you do this?" He asked, his voice filtered by electronics sounded hollow and alien. "My duty is to protect you, but you try to make it hard for me. Big-G knows there's enough scags who'd pay top creds to have you snuffed. Don't make it easy for them."
Heart speeding, she stepped close, fingers tracing the cool contours of his armor. "All this money and power has no meaning if I can't feel free. I need a thrill once in a while, otherwise I'm as dead as father."
Gerron snorted and took her hand. Even sheathed in heavy gauntlets his touch was delicate. "Your thrills will get you in a grave like your father."
